That’s for sure, Jim affirmed silently.
The pastor continued his message. “So, how do we strike the balance? What is the middle ground between keeping our commitment to our faith and gaining the credibility we need with nonbelievers? The church at Corinth asked the same questions. And, in response, the apostle Paul presents a model for correctly laying the groundwork for evangelism. Let’s turn now to First Corinthians 9.”
He followed along as Pastor Will talked about how Paul set the example of delivering the gospel message in different ways to different people. Once or twice he looked over at Melissa and thanked God she hadn’t hit him over the head with a Bible, but had been his friend and listened. He had easily rebuffed many adversaries when they mentioned Christianity. He never thought God would use a real and close friend. Jim smiled at God’s ingenuity. You knew exactly what I needed, didn’t you God?
Jim took notes all over his bulletin, jotting down cross-references from the book of Acts he would look up later. Man, this guy is nothing if not thorough. I might need to bring my notepad to church just to keep up.
Pastor Will shifted from the passage to his closing thoughts. “Every day we interact with people in the secular world, we go onto to their field. If we’re going to play on the baseball field, we can leave behind our ‘religious’ shoulder pads. Let’s just go and play some baseball. We may think the pads look impressive, but we will just be out of place. Once we have played their game for a while, they’ll ask us about our game. And then we give a reason for the hope that lies within: in their language and when they are ready to listen. As we reflect on that, let’s have the worship band come back up and close us out in song.”
Jim accompanied Melissa as the family went over to Timothy and Elizabeth’s for lunch. He made polite conversation and asked a few questions here and there, but he mostly listened in on their conversations. They talked about work, kids, sports, the weather, and Christianity from time to time. While he easily kept up with the other parts of the conversation, Jim realized Christianity could be complicated at times and he found himself asking questions like he was interviewing a subject for a story.
—
Tuesday, January 20
The two weeks had passed quickly and before he knew it, Jim was back in the office. He spent the morning of his first day back going through his mail and brainstorming ideas for upcoming columns. He already knew the new approach he was going to take with his columns, but he had to get Ken to sign off on it. They had scheduled a 1:30 p.m. meeting to talk about the future.
“You want to do humor writing?” Ken eyebrows rose along with his voice.
“Yeah. Slice of life stuff. Stupid city regulations, humorous stories, funny dog food labels. People write to us all the time about how much they love the syndicated funny guys. Why can’t we have our own local flavor? I even came up with a name for the column: ‘LOL’. I think it’ll be great. I even have a column ready that I wrote while I was off.” Jim hoped earnestness would tip the scales in his favor.
Ken considered the option for a minute before nodding. “Sure, go for it. We’ll run a small house ad online tomorrow announcing your new format. Your column will go in on Monday.” He paused and smiled. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” Then he added an afterthought. “Oh, and I want to change my byline to Jim Mitchell.”
“OK, but why the change?”
Jim took time in composing his reply. “Since my little vacation, I’ve been thinking about who I really am. ‘James T. Mitchell’ is a crime-fighting muckraker whose face belongs on a billboard, but that’s not the guy I see in the mirror every morning. The awards and stuff are great, but I want my work to make a difference, or at least make people laugh a little. That seems more important now than all the fame and glory.”
“Well, alright then.”
Jim’s quick smile broke the seriousness of the moment. “Besides, I hear the unpretentious look is in this season.”
—
He spent the next several weeks getting situated into his new role at the Courier. The readers liked his new style and emailed plenty of suggestions. A woman was ranting about the insanely obvious warnings on her blow drier, while a stay-at-home dad complained about the misleading and confusing labels on grocery store products. All in all, it was entertaining to see what irked people and how he could poke a little fun at everybody.
But being a Christian made him think about the impact his one-liners would have before he sent the final piece off to be edited. On more than one occasion, he found himself toning down a comment he would have written with glee had he not been a believer.
Yet he still insisted on preserving the sarcasm that infused his being. This tendency showed up when he wrote a column about a labeling mistake on some junk catalogs he received.
Mrs. Mitchell does not live here
By Jim Mitchell
Wanna bet on a sure thing? I’ll bet you sometime this week you will receive at least one catalog in your mailbox that you didn’t order filled with things you don’t want.
Any takers? I didn’t think so.
Everybody gets these things and they all pretty much look the same: glossy-covered 60-plus page booklets which advertise thousands of items you would never buy and one thing that might be nice for the uncle who has everything.
Last Christmas, I ordered something from one of these catalogs. What the heck, I figured. I was busy and the shipping wasn’t too much. What could go wrong?
That was my first mistake.
When I ordered the item, I simply gave the person on the other end of the line my catalog number, the item number and my credit card number. When I hung up I noticed the catalog was actually addressed to a “Mrs. Jan Mitchell.”
I didn’t worry at the time because I knew I gave them my real name along with my credit card information. I laughed and assured myself the “small clerical error” would be fixed soon if it had not been already.
Yeah, right.
Well, my uncle got the wood plaque with the clever golfing inscription, which he loved. And I figured that would be the end of the whole Jan Mitchell affair.
Then they started coming, slowly at first.
Catalogs for things I would never, ever be interested in owning. Artsy furniture. Crafty knickknacks. Quilts. Jewelry. And, of course, women’s undergarments, modest and otherwise.
All of which were addressed to “Mrs. Jan Mitchell”.
And they just kept on coming. And coming. And coming. All for a person who does not exist.
On a roll, Jim continued to rant for a couple more paragraphs. As he was writing, he was inspired for a closing line.
I have just one request to all the above catalog companies: PLEASE, OH PLEASE, STOP SENDING CATALOGS TO MRS. JAN MITCHELL. THERE IS NO SUCH PERSON! REALLY!
I’ll just keep the Angels baseball paperweight and we’ll forget this whole thing ever happened.
Jim Mitchell sorts his mail on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. He can be reached at [email protected]
—
While he was doing well professionally, it took him a few weeks to get his personal life in gear. In addition to seeing Melissa everyday at work and on Sundays, they found themselves eating lunch together a couple days a week. Melissa had also introduced Jim to a Thursday lunchtime prayer meeting held in one of the conference rooms every week. Before his conversion Jim had known a few people were Christians at the paper, but he did not expect a weekly meeting of 15 people openly sharing their burdens with each other.
In all these situations they kept their relationship completely professional, which was driving Jim crazy. He had been attracted to Melissa for months, but they had decided to back away from a relationship because he was not a believer at the time. He was still attracted to her, but things were different now. She wasn’t just an attractive woman; she was his best friend. And that made things awkward to say the least.
—
12:09 p.m. Tuesday, February 17
They were eating lunch in the courtyard at the Courier, and between bites of his leftover spaghetti dinner, he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. “How about going to Buca di Beppo Thursday night?” Nice and casual. Good job, Jim told himself.
Melissa’s face assumed a puzzled look. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were asking me out on a date.” Her smile punctuated the sentence.
He didn’t miss a beat. “And you would be right.”
She seemed caught off guard but recovered quickly enough. “It took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for three weeks for you to ask me out!”
It was Jim’s turn to be momentarily speechless. “Well then Miss Jenkins, I’m right glad I finally took the bull by the horns.”
They both shared a hearty laugh.
The date two days later was much better than other first dates they had been on. Since they knew each other so well, all of the stilted conversation was unnecessary. They talked over pasta and iced tea for more than an hour, sharing the intimate details of their lives with each other. After dinner they drove to downtown Claremont and enjoyed about half an hour of looking into the windows of the college town’s eclectic shops. Jim took Melissa’s hand and they walked along the sidewalk and enjoyed the evening.
Jim returned Melissa to her place where they talked for a few minutes. All the way home he had considered kissing her goodnight, but thought better of it. After saying good-bye, he put his arms around Melissa and gave her a deep hug. It was so natural and just seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, he told himself, there will be plenty of time for that later.
—
While they kept a careful reign on their physical intimacy, the emotional side of their relationship blossomed practically overnight. Within a month, after prayer and affirmation from Christian family members, they started talking about marriage. Even though they knew such talk was quick to be sure, they strongly felt the approval of God and others to go forward. And go forward they did. They told their friends. They looked at engagement and wedding rings. They considered a date in the late spring of 2010. All that was left was the official engagement. And Melissa had only one stipulation.
“I don’t care when you do it, as long as I’m surprised.”
A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure of that.”
—
7:53 p.m. Friday, April 17
Jim and Melissa joined several other Courier staffers in Boston during the third week of April, where they were attending the All States Media Corporation annual awards ceremony. The Press-Register hosted the festivities. Reporters from All States-affiliated papers, radio and television stations traveled to Boston to attend the black-tie dinner and ceremony. CEO Bradley Haras emceed the event and cracked several mildly funny jokes as he handed out awards for top-notch reporting in various fields.
Then they came to the final event of the evening, the C. Edgar Flemming Award. This award was given for the best reporting of the previous year. Sitting between Keating and Nelson, Jim and Melissa only half listened as Haras read the tightly scripted summary of their coverage on mass suicide of the New Creation Community. They were up against stiff competition and were not at all sure if they were going to win.
When their names were announced, Melissa almost knocked over her water glass in surprise, while Jim just smiled and waved as he took her hand and they quickly made their way from their table to the podium. Since they had won similar awards from the Golden State Reporters Association and the National Journalists Association, they had already pared down their acceptance speech to less than two minutes.
They shook Haras’s hand and Melissa took the wood-mounted glass trophy of a curled scroll and fountain pen while Jim approached the microphone.
“Thank you so much for this wonderful award. It means a great deal to Melissa and me. When we started on this story we had no idea how big it would become. And when it mushroomed before our very eyes, we had no idea what to do about it.” Jim paused for the scattered laughter. “But we went with our instincts and did what we were taught in J-school: follow the facts wherever they lead. The work wasn’t always easy but our cause was a just one. We knew what Jeremiah Harmon was doing was wrong and it was our job to expose his lies to our readers. Even when tragedy struck, we knew had an obligation to our readers to show them the horrifying effects power can have when placed in the wrong hands. Again, thank you for this award.”
Jim stepped back and Melissa approached the microphone as the audience applauded.
“We also wanted to thank our publisher, Gary Keating, and Ted Nelson, the Courier’s executive editor, both of whom are here tonight.” Melissa waited for the applause to recede before continuing. “And even though he’s back in Southern California doing his job right now, we need to thank our metro editor and friend Dan Palms. These three fine journalists never failed to give us the encouragement and support we needed to write the stories we did. Thank you all.”
Melissa returned to Jim as the audience rose to its feet and gave them a standing ovation. It doesn’t get any better than this, she thought.
—
12:11 p.m. Monday, April 20
They flew back to Southern California on Sunday and returned to work the next day. Much of the first couple of hours that morning had been spent sorting their mail and scheduling interviews for upcoming stories. Their fellow reporters had insisted on taking them out to lunch to celebrate them winning the Flemming award. The plan was to leave at noon, but Jim knew they would be lucky to get out the door by 12:15 p.m. He glanced at his watch when he heard his stomach growl slightly. Scanning the newsroom, Jim noticed Melissa was the only one not at her desk. Figures. He started to contemplate what he would have for lunch and didn’t even notice the first time Melissa had called his name from about 10 feet away.
“Earth to Jim.” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Keating wants to see us in his office.”
“Did he say why?”
“Nope. He just told me to get ourselves into his office pronto.”
Jim picked up his pen and notepad just in case he needed to take notes on something. They walked quickly to his office, both of them wondering what they had done to merit such a hasty meeting. When they arrived at the office, they entered the open door. Gary was standing behind his desk. Ted and Dan were seated on the other side. All three had large grins on their faces.
This is getting weirder by the minute, Jim thought.
“Please, have a seat.”
They both sat down.
“I just received a call from Bradley Haras,” Gary said. “And he had some unbelievable news to share with me. As you know, we submitted your work to the Pulitzer Prize Board at Columbia University. The announcement was made today and—I don’t know quite how to tell you this—but...”
Jim cut in excitedly. “We’re finalists?” He knew being named as a finalist for the most prestigious award in journalism was considered the crowning achievement of any journalist’s career.
“Not exactly.” The paper’s publisher paused. “Actually, you won. You two won the Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News Reporting!”
They sat in stunned silence as they soaked in the news. Melissa’s shock grew when she heard Jim, in his surprise, mutter a mild expletive.
“Jim!”
“Melissa, we just won the Pulitzer Prize. Besides, I bet Dan said something even more ‘salty’ when heard the news.”
Everyone looked at Dan, who grinned sheepishly.
“I rest my case.”
—
1:07 p.m. Friday, April 24
Although the announcement was made that same afternoon, an official office celebration was scheduled for the end of the week. The event was catered, with chicken and ribs, potato salad and several kinds of vegetables spread out on the editorial conference room table. Reporters and photographers were crammed in the room, and the group spil
led out into the newsroom. Knowing such feasts came around rarely in this business, the staffers sampled a little bit of all the main dishes and wrapped up a few desserts to take back to their workstations for later.
As the eating died down, Keating and Nelson both gave short speeches praising the efforts Jim and Melissa had put into their stories. Then Dan Palms stood and picked up a large, framed copy of the Courier’s front page that announced their Pulitzer victory.
“There isn’t much I can add to what Gary and Ted just said. They were right. Jim and Melissa are two outstanding reporters who did an excellent job. And they got what they deserved for all their hard work. Now, since they won’t get their actual awards until next month, so we thought this might suffice in the meantime.”
The applause, cheers, and whistles were almost deafening as Jim and Melissa approached Dan and accepted the framed page. They smiled as the applause continued.
“Look this way, guys!” photographer Jeff Wang took several pictures.
As the applause died down, Jim announced he had something to say.
“Thank you all for everything. All of the praise we have received from our work together has been incredible. And now this. I’m still in shock! I want to thank all of you who helped us by taking pictures, writing down numerous phone messages or covering our beats while we were holed up in Crestline. You guys are wonderful. You made this all possible.”
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